


A Templar and a Red-Tailed Hawk

by ghostchibi



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, Shapeshifting, shapeshifter!Hawke, templar!Carver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 13:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1781188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostchibi/pseuds/ghostchibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a red-tailed hawk that always seems to be around when Carver's on patrol duty in the upper levels of the Gallows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Templar and a Red-Tailed Hawk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cygnonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cygnonymous/gifts).



> A little something that popped came to be thanks to a conversation with Cygnonymous.
> 
> Lots of templar!Carver and mage!Hawke feels.

"Hey, that bird’s back again."

Carver scowled.

Sure enough, a red-tailed hawk was perched on a statue, having let itself into the tower through one of the upper windows. It blinked, spread its black-tipped wings, and gleefully glided over to perch on a statue closer to the patrolling templars.

"What do you  _want?_ " Carver huffed at the hawk as it hopped and glided from statue to statue to keep up with the patrol. It kept staring at him, glancing occasionally at the others patrolling with him, but its eyes were trained on Carver as they walked.

"You sure it’s not your brother’s hawk?" Hugh asked. "He’s got one just like this."

"It’s not Hellena," Carver replied. "She’s got more white and brown on her. This one has a lot of black."

"You sure? It might be Hawke trying to check up on you."

Carver turned to Feylin, a look of clear irritation on his face.

"He doesn’t have to check up on me, and if that’s what’s going on I’m going to deck him the next time I see him," he grumbled. The hawk that had been following them paused for a moment, staying perched on a statue even as the three templars walked past.

"I think it left," Feylin said, looking over her shoulder. "Aww. It was kind of cute."

"Fey, for Andraste’s sake you’re a templar, stop worrying about-"

**_CLANG._ **

Carver nearly toppled over as something slammed into his helmet from behind. He swore and righted himself, looking around angrily-

Only to see that same hawk now flying in circles above their heads, with a look that could only be described as  _laughing_.

"I’m going to kill that Maker damned bird!" he ground out in frustration. The hawk made one more circle before dive-bombing him again, and Carver tried to whack it out of the air.

It landed perfectly on the top of his helmet, and Hugh and Feylin laughed. Carver waved the hawk away, and it flew off before attempting to perch on his head yet again.

"Stop- You- Hugh! Fey! A little  _help_  would be nice!” he snapped at his companions, but they were in near-hysterics at this point as the hawk landed. It pecked at Carver’s helmet before immediately taking off again when his gauntleted hand nearly collided with its wings.

"It’s gonna keep doing that, Carv!" Feylin giggled. "You’re better off just giving up!"

“ _I’m not reporting to the Knight-Captain with a hawk on my head!_ ”

* * *

"Erm, Ser Carver…"

"Yes, Knight-Captain?"

"Is there any reason why there is a hawk perched on your helmet?"

Hugh and Feylin attempted to stifle their giggles, while Carver just scowled even more.

"It… wouldn’t leave me alone, ser. It kept perching on my head no matter how much I waved it off. It was far more distracting to keep waving it off," he said, attempting to keep a serious face.

The look on Cullen’s face would have been funny if Carver wasn’t so irritated at the smug bastard perched on his head. It had the audacity to  _look_  smug too, neck feathers ruffled out and eyes closed, as is boasting his throne.

"Just… do not let the Knight-Commander see you in such a state," Cullen sighed.

* * *

The training grounds were filled with the noise of clashing practice swords and orders shouted by trainers. Carver watched as the recruits practiced.

There wasn’t much he wanted to do that day. And while the prospect of letting out all of his anger through sword blows was appealing, he knew that it would make for poor practice for the recruits. He’d probably scare them, anyway.

So he stood there and watched, trying to push down the emotions threatening to burst from him. He had ended up dealing with his latest loss in the same way he had dealt with Bethany’s loss; with a great amount of anger and blame directed at his brother.

The rustle of wings was simultaneously absolutely expected yet completely a surprise to Carver as the hawk with black-tipped feathers perched on a nearby windowsill. He looked everywhere except at that hawk, and the hawk did the same for him.

"Maker damn it," he sighed. "Come here."

Carver held out his hand. The hawk seemed to be startled for a moment, before gliding over, and Carver pulled his hand up to let it perch on his shoulder.

He didn’t know what to do or say. He wanted to yell, but there was no point in doing so. And everyone would think him mad if he suddenly started shouting obscenities at a hawk, anyway.

So instead, Carver just opted to scratch the scruff of the hawk’s neck. It settled against him, leaning into the metal as it rubbed against its feathers.

"There’s going to be a… strongly-worded letter from me on my brother’s desk later," he murmured. "I’m sorry for writing it. I hope he just burns it, I didn’t really mean what I’d written."

The hawk made a soft keening noise, and at the shouting of the instructors for the recruits to put away their equipment, it spread its wings and flew off.

* * *

"Oh dear," Feylin said, noticing an overturned bookcase. "Looks like a spell gone wrong."

"Oh!" a little voice cried, and the templars saw one of the younger apprentices attempting to re-right the bookcase. "I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I honestly didn’t-"

"You’re not going to fix that by yourself, you know," Carver said, and the hawk on his head tilted its head at the apprentice.

"Err… ser? Is that-"

"Yes yes, it is," he huffed. "Now do you want help getting that back up or not?"

They managed to at least put the bookcase back where it was supposed to go, although some of the books seem to be a little worse for wear. Hugh blinked when he looked back to Carver.

"Carv, your hawk’s gone."

"It’s not my hawk, and good riddance."

**_WHUMP._ **

Carver would have screamed in frustration if he wasn’t worried about the reputation he was trying to change about his quick temper. He whipped his head up, the book dropped onto him flopping to the floor.

The hawk had relocated to the top shelf of the book case, and this time it made a strange keening noise at Carver.

It was actually  _laughing_  at him.

"I AM GOING TO PLUCK ALL THE FEATHERS OFF OF THAT MENACE!"

* * *

"Know when to allow yourself to take a hit!" Carver barked to the recruits, tapping the practice sword against his chestpiece. "Sometimes, attempting to block or parry will leave you open to attack. In a situation like that, you need to pick your battles. Know when to let a hit land, to keep a more dangerous one from taking you out!"

He could see a blur of brown flapping about overhead, although he chose to ignore it for now. Nowadays the hawk was a little more adventurous, flying out to greet Carver even in the middle of the Gallows in full view of everyone. And Carver greeted it now too, holding his arm out to allow it to perch for a short while.

"Your armor is there for a reason. If a blow will leave you open and defenseless, rely on your armor to protect you."

He could see the tell-tale sign of the hawk preparing to dive, and Carver took a few steps back.

"Your armor is a tool much as your sword and shield are. Don’t hesitate to use it."

There was a pause, and then the distinct sound of something falling through the air. He didn’t move though, even when some of the recruits gasped or called out to him.

At the very last second, he brought his arm up over his head, and talons met metal as the hawk collided with him. It bounced off and staggered back, wings flapping wildly in the air as it attempted to regain its balance.

"If using your sword or shield would take too much, don’t hesitate to use your armor," he said, a bit of a smirk on his face as he looked over his shoulder to the hawk. It had landed on the ground and was busy giving Carver what could only be described as a dirty look.

"What? Even my  _brother_  could have done better than that,” Carver sneered, and the hawk screeched indignantly.

"With that perfect demonstration of the idea out of the way, who wants to go first?"

* * *

Everything was burning and people were screaming for blood.

This wasn’t a good situation.

"Do not let any of them get inside!" Cullen shouted as more rioters and rebels swarmed forward up the steps of the Gallows. "Keep the children back, make sure the enchanters stay with the apprentices!"

Carver barked out a few orders to some nearby templars, and dashed up a nearby staircase to the upper levels. An explosion had gone off, and he had to make sure that it was from a spell by a defending mage and not explosive powder. Another explosion rocked the walls, and he nearly lost his footing as he burst through the door.

There was barely anything left of the room. He watched as one of the older apprentices rushed several crying children away from the wreckage. It seemed that there was nothing or nobody else here, except-

There was a loud rustle of wings, and Carver had to duck to avoid getting a faceful of hawk.

"Maker damn it-" he started, but quickly turned around. "What are you still doing here? You need to go!"

The hawk gave him a baleful look.

"Yes, I know… You didn’t have to risk your life to come back just to say goodbye, okay?" Carver sighed. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry, even though he should have been. "I know you’ve always been a big baby about that sort of thing. But…"

He held out his hand, and the hawk gently landed on his wrist.

"Please be safe out there," Carver murmured, and ran a gauntleted hand down the hawk’s back. "I’ll be okay. And come back to Kirkwall once this is done. This place needs its Champion."

The hawk almost seemed to nod, before another loud crash caught their attention. Both heads snapped in the direction of the noise, and Carver’s free hand went to his sword.

"Go, now. Go before they get you," he said urgently. The hawk hesitated, wings outstretched but reluctant to fly off.

"I said go!"

And with that, it flapped both wings and flew out the window, out into the skies above the violence in the streets. One tail feather floated to the floor, and Carver picked it up.

* * *

"That hawk of yours doesn’t come around any more, does it?"

Carver thought about ignoring Hugh’s comment, but there was no ill-will in it. He glanced up from the piles of paperwork on his desk, and rubbed his face.

"No," he replied simply.

"Do you think it might have left? It’s been pretty chaotic here latel-"

"Ser Hugh, is there not something you ought to be doing?"

Hugh flinched, and lowered his head ever so slightly.

"R-right, apologies, Knight-Captain."

Hugh left rather quickly after that. Carver pushed away the page he had just signed and sighed, and his hand went to brush against the red-tailed hawk feather tucked under the neck of his armor.

He hadn’t seen that hawk with black-tipped feathers ever since.

"I miss you, you stupid hawk."


End file.
